


Skip and a Jump

by zacian



Series: Tongue Tied [1]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: F/M, Post-Game, PostwickShipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:28:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21832924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zacian/pseuds/zacian
Summary: Sonia gives Hop sound advice. Hop does his best to follow it.
Relationships: (one-sided) Bede/Gloria, Hop & Sonia (Pokemon), Hop/Yuuri | Gloria
Series: Tongue Tied [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1618846
Comments: 17
Kudos: 287





	Skip and a Jump

**Author's Note:**

> i just finished playing sword and hop/gloria is one of my new favorite ships. i pretty much never ship protag/rival but theyre so cute
> 
> i had a lot of fun writing this. i enjoyed writing hop and sonia's relationship just as much as hop and gloria's. they have such a sweet big sister/little brother dynamic that i wish was explored more in the games
> 
> hope you enjoy! :)
> 
> 1/28: beautiful cover art done by @quibbs on tumblr! <3

* * *

* * *

Hop is thirteen when he decides what he is going to do with his life.

Sonia expresses envy at his being so sure of his purpose at such a young age. There’s an edge of lament to her praise.

“When I was around your age, I was still struggling to figure out whether I should continue on with the Gym Challenge,” she says, “or give up on being a Trainer altogether.” She doesn’t have to tell him which she chose.

When she offers him the position of professor’s assistant, it’s a given. He’s known her for too long to want anything else.

He’s fifteen when he decides that he is in love with Gloria, his best friend and forever rival. Sonia tells him love isn’t something you can consciously decide to be in, but a feeling— something you just know deep down.

Hop does have a feeling. A big, bubbling feeling in his chest. It swells when he gets close to Gloria, when he takes her by the shoulders and hugs her, fondly, as they’ve done for so long since their interlocking childhoods. Nevertheless, he asks Sonia how one goes about knowing.

“When you’re around the person you love, your heart beats faster. You might blush, or stutter, or get really flustered.” Sonia breathes into the steaming mug of tea in her grip. “Your hands might get clammy, and you might find yourself trying really hard to impress them.”

Hop doesn’t get flustered or sweaty around Gloria, a fact that he attributes to being best friends since practically infancy. He does try to impress her, but Hop tries to impress everybody.

“My stomach gets all fluttery when she looks at me.” He says it like he’s confessing. “I want her to look at me all the time.”

Sonia rests her chin in one hand, contemplating this.

She makes a list, like she does when cataloguing Gigantamax forms or preparing for their next trip to the grocery store. Hop ticks off “daydreams” and “trouble sleeping” in the left-hand column.

“What do you like about her?” she asks, leaning towards him from across the table. Her eyes gleam with curiosity like those of a teenage girl at a sleepover.

Hop doesn’t have to think hard on that one. “She’s really strong, of course. She’s got this way of battling that just draws you in and makes you want to try your hardest! She’s so full of energy, and she always picks me up when I feel down. She believes in me like no one else does.”

“ _Hey,_ " Sonia interjects, but she’s grinning, that same jovial glint in her eyes. Hop grins back.

She scans over the notepad as he continues. “She’s got the most brilliant presence. She just lights up any room she walks into. And her smile...well, you’ve seen it, Sonia, it’s breathtaking...” He trails off, swiveling his eyes to the ceiling when it all clicks into place. “I think I’ve always loved her. I guess it just took me until now to realize it.”

“That tends to happen,” Sonia says. She looks up at him. “By all accounts, it seems you’ve got it pretty bad.”

“By all accounts, I could’ve told you that!”

Sonia laughs into her tea.

* * *

Gloria has always held a penchant for showboating, but after besting Leon, no one in Galar will ever hear the end of it.

“You folk liked that, didn’t you?!” she shouts over the bellowing din of the crowd, splaying her arms out wide. “Well, there’s plenty more where that came from!” She makes a show of running in place, trainers scuffing against the turf and throwing up grass. She kicks a leg out, then bends both at the knee, and punches a fist into her open palm.

Then, with a flourish, Gloria calls a command to her Shiinotic, who makes quick work of the opposing Dragapult with a Moonblast that dazzles the crowd as much as Gloria’s own performance had.

The stands, as usual, go wild. In the milliseconds it takes for Dragapult to disappear back into its ball, the noise reaches a deafening volume, and Gloria’s ego seems to Dynamax right before their eyes. She throws her arms out as if being showered in bouquets, turns in every direction and waves, and Hop swears he sees her blow a kiss.

When the crowd chants her name, it sounds like she was always meant to be there. _Glo-ri-a_. Three syllables that reverberate through the stadium and hang in the air long after. _Hop_ doesn’t have the same ring to it. It doesn’t linger or vibrate in one’s chest when shouted over the cheers. Hop sees it as another sign that she's truly the heroine of Galar, either by fate or by circumstance. (He hasn’t quite decided which he believes in more.)

If Sonia’s research is to be believed—and he’s the last person who’d ever doubt in it—he’s a hero, too, and though he still doesn’t exactly feel like one, the title is growing on him.

Gloria’s opponent calls for his last Pokémon, and Gloria matches the intensity of his stare as he reaches for his Poké Ball as if cornered.

For now, Hop lets his voice ring the loudest and clearest of everyone’s when he calls for her victory.

* * *

“You want to make her feel special,” Sonia says, when he wonders aloud what he can do to make her aware of his feelings short of professing on national television. “She’s the Champion of Galar, so she’s used to being hounded and adored. But you’re her best friend. You know her. You can make her feel special on a personal level, in a way no one else can.” Hop had never really thought of it like that. “Just a piece of advice.”

The first of many, as it turns out.

* * *

Gloria’s not shy by any means; she’s “a rambunctious little spitfire” in the famous words of Sonia, who loves the girl more than anything, and “a rising star with the passion of a thousand flames,” according to Leon, who’s been forced to come to terms with being replaced by someone even more over-the-top than himself. She eats up every bit of attention thrown her way, which is good, seeing as she gets a lot of it.

The people in the tournament lobby swarm her like they’d swarmed Leon, clamoring for her attention. Hop waits his turn, patiently, like everyone else. Gloria leans down to sign a young boy’s copy of her League Card. A lass asks for an autograph on her cap. Someone pushes their way through to pose for a selfie with her, and she musses their hair, holding two fingers up behind the kid’s head as the shutter snaps. It’s all a bit dizzying, but she takes it in stride. Hop reflects as he watches her, thinking that Marnie, as Champion, would withdraw from such a scene, having dealt with enough from Team Yell, and that Bede would inevitably bring someone’s child to tears.

He tries not to think about how he’d fare as Champion anymore.

It’s only when she notices him waiting that she raises her voice in asking the crowd to disperse.

“Alright, that’s enough, you lot! I trust you’ll be at my next match, yeah? I’ll be sure to take more of your requests then, don’t you worry!”

Everyone in Galar knows about them, has watched their rivalry and their friendship blossom, has watched them take on the League together and wondered if Hop’s loss would bring things to an end. They’d turned to more provocative conjecture when it became clear that there were no hard feelings between the two.

There’s been no shortage of rumors spewed by eager tabloids, but Gloria manages to fend them off. Hop declines comment, most of the time.

Her face softens; her smile is warm and homey when they lock eyes like two Trainers meeting for the first time. He doesn’t have to do much, just says her name—not “Champion” or “Miss Champion” or some variation thereof, just “Gloria,” and she hones in on him like he’s the only other person in the room.

“Ready to go?” he asks her, gently, and she responds by taking his hand, letting him lead her away.

He knows there’ll be a new headline come tomorrow morning.

* * *

“There’s no better way to show your appreciation than with a bouquet of fresh flowers,” Sonia tells him. Her gaze goes scrutinously from the poppies in the florist’s hands to, predictably, the pink magnolias in front of her. “Going through the effort to get her a gift like that will show her how much you really care.”

They’re gone to Turffield for the day, in search of flowers for Professor Magnolia’s birthday. Sonia insists on finding the most flawless bunch, more out of respect for her grandmother’s perfectionism than her own.

“I think Gloria would like these,” Hop says, peering into the case beside him and pointing to the orange lilies behind the frosted glass.

Sonia glances back over her shoulder. “You know her better than I do, but if I were you? Red roses, and lots of them. They’re a universal symbol of love for a reason.”

Hop mulls the advice over while Sonia vents her frustrations with her gran’s unbearable pickiness to the florist.

She leaves the shop with an armful of tulips, complaining all the way to the station. Hop stumbles alongside her, cradling the vibrant mass of orange and red against his chest. In between airing grievances, Sonia praises him for his ingenuity.

* * *

Bede’s there with her before and after matches a lot more these days, hovering near and chatting with her in that way where he looks to be making a conscious effort to be polite, but it’s sort of hurting him, physically.

There’s nothing strange about it, in itself; Marnie comes too, every once in a while, and where before they’d been at odds whenever they’d crossed paths, lost in the daze of competition, Gloria’s come to call both of them her friends.

What is strange, where Hop is concerned, is the way Bede’s demeanor changes when he shows up. He stiffens, and whatever words he’d been speaking die in his throat, and his eyes can’t seem to stay on either Hop or Gloria.

There’s no bad blood between them, or at least not anymore. Bede had been a right terror to Hop at the start of their Gym Challenge, and his harsh words had a lasting effect. But the little Impidimp of a Trainer has long since mellowed out thanks to the wise mentorship of Ballonlea’s very own wizard, and they’ve long since moved past it. In any case, Hop certainly doesn’t hold a grudge. That’s why it’s so puzzling that he speaks at length to the Champion but refrains from even acknowledging the presence of her best rival.

He’s there to challenge her, this time, when Hop comes by to say hello. Hop looks forward to those matches as some of his favorites, not least of all because it’s still a little satisfying seeing Gloria win against him.

“Oh, Hop! What perfect timing!” Gloria, brightly. Bede busies himself inspecting another Trainer’s Orbeetle from across the room. “Bede and I were just talking about you.” For some reason, Hop’s stomach lurches. “Who’s your money on today? Me or him?”

It’s always, always Gloria, but Hop knows better than to say it. “That’s a tough one! You’re both super-strong! Bede, you’re a type specialist, but I’ve noticed that you’ve been diversifying your team in your battles against Gloria.” Bede grunts a non-response. “All I know is, I’ll be on the edge of my seat today! I’m all fired up!”

“I love the energy, Hop!” Gloria raises a hand to high-five him. “Keep it up! You’re getting me pumped too.”

Bede watches their interaction in silence. Gloria either senses the tension between them, or is completely oblivious to it, because she says, “Haha, you lads wanna have a battle, too, or what? I’d say you’ve got a little rivalry of your own going on!” Knowing her, it’s probably the latter.

“...of sorts,” Bede replies, and he meets Hop’s gaze for the first time. Hop’s smile falters a little.

The intercom crackles to life as the announcer spits that they have five minutes remaining to start the match. When Bede goes to shake Gloria’s hand, mumbling something about giving them a good show, Gloria laughs and crushes him into a hug. Hop pretends not to notice his face going red.

“Good luck out there!” he calls as they turn to leave. He thinks it’s clear that he’s addressing both of them, but only Gloria turns to wave goodbye, mouthing a ‘thank you’ before she runs down the hall and onto the playing field.

(Bede loses, and Hop doesn’t see him afterwards when he picks Gloria up for their celebratory dinner.)

* * *

Postwick moves on with or without Gloria, the same as before, at a glacier’s pace. Her absence is felt, but it’s felt in much the same way as a passing storm that’s taken its leave.

Wyndon buzzes and glows with her presence. Postwick creaks, straining under the weight of having produced not one but two Galarian Champions, and in a row, no less.

The feeling of something missing is nothing new to Hop. Leon became Champion at the age of ten. Hop had been four at the time. He adjusted then, and he adjusts now.

She’s still there sometimes, in the mornings and late nights, mostly.

His Rotom Phone wakes him in the early hours so he can see her off. It’s still dark out when she parts from him, humming reluctantly as she breaks from his arms.

“I’ll be back tomorrow night,” she promises, blearily. “You’ll watch today’s match on the telly, won’t you?”

Hop grins and locks a pinky around hers. “You have my word.”

On the rare occasion such as this that he can’t come into Wyndon to watch her take on the latest challenger, Hop sits himself in front of the TV diligently. He watches her fight like he watched his brother, examining her every move.

Sonia’s swamped him with bookwork, but he always sets time aside to see the Champion, if not in real time then via recording. Sonia makes things up to him with his favorite leek curry. She sits on the couch with him, nursing a plate.

She’s as quick as ever and very observant, pointing out things about Abilities and type matchups that surprise even Hop. It’s enough to make him wonder why she ever quit the Gym Challenge.

“What in the world has this girl got planned now?” she murmurs to herself, twirling a lock of hair around a manicured finger as she watches Gloria call for her Frosmoth. The Pokémon has learned a new move, evidently, and she tears into the opposing Centiskorch with a rattling Hurricane that sweeps through the stadium at full force. When all is said and done, Gloria isn’t full of herself for nothing.

Postwick stays static, unchanging though some fallout from Leon’s and Gloria’s limelight has brought it to its own quiet kind of glory. As appreciative as he is of change and as much as he’s changed himself, Hop can’t help but take comfort in it.

The Wooloo bleat and roll idly at the ends of the dirt trails and in the fields, unaware of the ways the world outside of the wooden fences has shifted and rocked around them.

Gloria, too, magnificent as she is, remains the same girl she was when they’d started their Gym Challenge, and the same girl she was before then. She wears the same drab clothes, the same hairstyle: short, mousy brown locks under a green tam o’ shanter. Asks for the same cut every time. Her PR team’s initial protests had died down when the headlines came: “POSTWICK PRODIGY STEALS LEON’S SPOTLIGHT—AND GALAR’S HEART!” “DON’T JUDGE A BOOK BY ITS COVER: PLAIN-LOOKING POSTWICK TOWNIE IS A HOT-BLOODED SUPERSTAR!”

Just as she’d promised, she returns the next night, nearly bowling him over when she comes back into his arms. At some point while he was waiting for her, it had started to rain, and in a classic display of his lack of foresight, he hadn’t brought an umbrella. His attempts to shield her from the onslaught with his own person are met with peals of laughter when it becomes obvious how futile they are.

When they come in from the rain, they’re both drenched, and Hop is miserable and cold, but he laughs as Gloria leads him inside, leaning against him for support.

She stomps as quietly as she can into the house, kicking her boots off. A wet sock goes flying, landing with a muted thud on the linoleum. Munchlax rouses from his sleep in the living room enough to blink open an eye, acknowledging their presence, and then returns to his slumber.

“What a lovely homecoming, eh, Gloria,” Hop whispers, shutting the door softly behind them. Rain pelts the frame and bangs on the windows.

She flings her soaked parka onto the sofa’s back next. Hop wordlessly offers her his wool-lined jacket when she shudders, left only in her dress. She takes it, thanking him. He seats himself on the couch and she slinks down beside him, heaving a sigh. She’s tired in ways Hop cannot fathom.

She lays her head against his shoulder then, a familiar gesture from their hours spent on Galar’s railway. He moves with her, drapes an arm across her shoulders, finding the movement utterly and unremarkably effortless.

It isn’t often that they have time to themselves anymore, and busy though she is Hop is happy for her. She’s the same girl she’s always been: plain in her appearance, plain in her feelings, as much as Hop still jabs at her (half-joking) that she’ll become swept up in her fame and forget about all of them, that Wyndon will turn her into something she’s not.

“I miss you,” he murmurs, staring at the unlit fireplace beside them. “Things aren’t the same without you.”

She’s oddly quiet, contemplative, breathing shallowly against him. He chalks it up to her fatigue, but there’s clearly something more at play when she reaches a hand up to lace her fingers through his own.

In moments like these, when they’re alone together, he sees her for what she is away from the crowds. There’s a sort of tenderness to her that is at once achingly well-known to him and increasingly far away. He’d once thought it was Postwick and her home itself that made her feel safe enough to let her guard down. He doesn’t think that anymore.

“I’d come back if I could,” she tells him. “For you, if for nothing else.”

He wills his heart to stop beating the way it does.

“Yeah? Am I really that special to you?” His voice wavers but his tone is playful, teasing.

Gloria’s is not. “Yes, Hop. You’re special to me.”

_Sonia tells him to be true, but she also warns him of the possible consequences of rushing in headfirst and being reckless._

_“Be mindful of what you say and when you say it,” she says, shuffling papers in her hands. “If you aren’t careful, you could jeopardize a lifelong friendship.”_

Though their journeys have tempered him somewhat, Hop is still rash, and it has been his downfall on more than one occasion. He speaks before he thinks, and speaks too soon.

It’s either a very good thing or a very bad thing that Gloria isn’t much better.

“You always were my hero, you know,” she continues, when his silence carries on for longer than is normal for him. “Maybe you never felt like one, but I could see it. Fighting alongside Zacian and Zamazenta with you… I’d never felt so exhilarated. Of all the people in Galar, there’s no one I’d rather have by my side.”

It’s the most profound thing he’s heard her say in a while, or maybe ever. Her hand tightens around his.

From his bed on the floor, Munchlax snores. The rain doesn’t let up, which must be fate, because as it is the downpour is too loud for her to hear the heavy beating in his ribs.

_“Baby steps,”_ Sonia’s visage advises him. Hop takes a running leap.

“I’ve got feelings for you, Gloria. I have for a long time.” It’s easier to get the words out than he’d expected, and he pictures himself gloating this fact to his mentor.

“That so? Could’ve fooled me.” Now she does tease him.

She lets go of his hand and looks at him, and her eyes are shining. He wonders if there’s anything left for him to say.

There isn’t. She tilts her chin up, and he leans down to meet her halfway, and they kiss. It’s a short affair, so simple and straightforward, as all things with Gloria are, that Hop almost laughs. Instead, he pulls her in closer, letting her tuck her face against his chest as he rests his head atop hers.

In the morning, his side aches and she complains of a stiff neck. Her mother, from the sweet-smelling kitchen, calls them to breakfast: pancakes in the shape of Applin, served with a knowing smile.

* * *

The tabloids, for once, are silent when it comes to their relationship. Postwick has its way of concealing things, keeping them hidden in its unassuming depths. There are whispers about her and Bede now, but Bede shouts down an interviewer in an unseemly display that’s sure to earn him an earful from Opal, and Gloria doesn’t seem to be aware of anything but battles in her tunnel vision.

He hasn’t spoken to her directly in some time. They’re both so busy, and the distance between them seems to have stretched into something much bigger than what it is. When they meet again, they fall back into their normal routine nonetheless.

She’s up against a new Gym Challenger today, a sprightly young thing with a spring in her step and a fire behind her eyes. Hop sees something of himself in her, but he roots for Gloria all the same.

“Hey.” He greets her with a lopsided smile and his hands behind his head. “You nervous about today?”

Gloria is smoothing out her jersey when she hobbles up to him. She looks a little frazzled, but she beams, mirroring him, when she says, “Not a chance. This girl’s strong, but I can take her. My Championship’s not in any danger yet.” She winks, and it’s an entirely different gesture between the two of them than when it’s directed at the crowds.

Sonia had told him it might be a bit weird, being out in the open like this after everything, but he doesn’t feel like much has particularly changed (although he thinks he sees more eyes on him than usual).

“I just wanted to say…” He isn’t really sure what he’d wanted to say, but he feels like he needs to say _something_. “...good luck, and all that. Not that you need it.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Hop.” Gloria halves the distance between them and claps him on the shoulder. “I _don’t_ need it, but it’s always nice having you here. Being my hero, and whatnot.”

They grin together. She hugs him, burying her face into the wool lining at the back of his neck.

As in Postwick, his loss for words says more than he’d be able to convey.

* * *

“Hop. A word, if I may.”

Bede is the last person Hop expects to want to talk to him, here.

In place of his usual standoffishness, he seems strangely forlorn and slightly agitated as he approaches Hop from, as is typical, seemingly out of nowhere. Hop stuffs his apprehension down and cracks an amiable smile.

“Bede! How’s it going?”

“I’d like it if we spoke in private,” Bede says, adding “if that’s okay with you” after a few beats.

“Sure thing, mate. What’s up?”

They wander into a deserted corner of the lobby, away from the chattering crowds. “I’d just like to say that I’m happy for you. And Gloria.” He’s having trouble meeting Hop’s eyes, which isn’t unusual, but his avoidance seems particularly pronounced now.

Hop cocks his head to one side, listening, not comprehending. “Happy for us? What’s the occasion?”

Bede’s agitation flares; Hop watches him swallow it down. “Gloria spoke in earnest with an interviewer, just now. I watched the whole thing. She mentioned you, and...your relationship.”

Hop’s breath catches. “Did she?”

“The interviewer asked if she had anyone special in her life. She responded that there was, and I quote, ‘a certain someone who’d been there by her side since the very beginning.’ It doesn’t exactly take a Psychic-type to figure out who she was talking about.”

Hop’s heart pounds in his ears. A part of him wants to leap and pump his fist in the air for joy; the more developed part of him keeps his feet firmly on the ground.

Bede crosses his arms across his chest, looking away. A faint blush, the same color as the uniform he’d once bemoaned, paints his cheeks. “I’m not surprised, though. None of us are, really. What with you two being childhood best friends and all, we could see it coming a mile away. It’s a tired cliché, but...” He tries to smile. It comes across as more of a sneer, but Hop can tell that he’s trying. “...but she seems happy. You make her happy. I extend my congratulations.”

_Oh._

Hop nods. He doesn’t have the heart to tell Bede that he and Gloria aren’t together, not officially. The last thing Bede needs is to think he has a chance to win her over and fall over himself in a vain attempt to court her. Hop decides to spare Bede his dignity and what fragments remain of his ego. To protect his feelings, Hop thinks. Which is really rather noble of him if one thinks about it.

“That’s really nice of you. I sure try my best.”

“I’m sorry, by the way. For what I said to you during our Gym Challenge.” Bede glides his fingers through his tangle of white hair. “I was angry, but I had no right to take things out on you. You might be a bit of a pill, but she clearly sees something in you, and for all the trouble she’s given me, I still trust the Champion’s judgment.”

“All water under the bridge now, mate.” Hop leans back, flashing a sincere smile. He decides not to comment on Bede’s objectionable description of him, thinking vaguely to a talk Sonia gave him about ‘being the bigger person.’ “Don’t worry about it. And thank you, too. For your words, and for trusting Gloria.”

Bede looks at him intently, as if studying him. “You always were her most worthy adversary. Worthier than I, in the end.” Hop knows he isn’t just talking about Pokémon battles anymore. “I...respect you. Come find me in Ballonlea sometime. We’ll have a Gym battle, for old times' sake.”

The last few words are strained, but they’re spoken with a conviction that catches Hop off guard for a moment. In spite of himself, when Bede puts forth a hand, Hop doesn’t shake it. He pulls Bede into a tight hug instead, slapping him on the back all sportsmanlike.

He can’t be sure, but the Fairy-type expert seems a little lighter when he shuffles back into the crowd.

* * *

After every other match for the past few months, he’s waited for her outside of the stadium with flowers, sometimes yellow and magenta lilies with rust-colored flecks, sometimes roses segregated with splashes of stark white baby’s breath.

This time around, she is the one holding a bouquet, one more massive than anything Hop has ever brought her. Her crowd of fans titters behind her. They stop and linger a good distance as she breaks into a jog towards Hop, with his hands hanging uselessly at his sides, staring. They murmur anxiously amongst themselves, as stupefied as he, watching the scene of scenes unfold before them.

Gloria gets closer and Hop can make out the many different flowers in the disorienting cluster. There are peonies, carnations, purple orchids with their necks outstretched. Gloria closes the gap between them before Hop can discern anything more.

“This one’s for my best friend and greatest rival,” she declares. She spins, thrusts the bouquet ceremoniously into Hop’s arms as she sticks the landing, and plants a kiss on his mouth. The crowd erupts into gasps and cries.

When they return to Postwick, Sonia is there, inexplicably, and the look she gives Hop is equal parts maddening and comforting when she asks if they’d like to go into town for supper at Bob’s Your Uncle.

Hop, for the first time, looks forward to the headlines that are sure to crop up in the coming days.


End file.
